


tear it apart

by kissaterapia



Series: Apex Legends [2]
Category: Apex Legends (Video Games)
Genre: Other, like wattson loba and pathfinder mentioned, some characters will be included, trigger warnings for self harm and suicidal thoughts
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-18
Updated: 2020-06-18
Packaged: 2021-03-04 04:02:38
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,936
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24787408
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kissaterapia/pseuds/kissaterapia
Summary: Short drabbles that were meant to be used for a longer fanfic. My laptop will be taken away soon, since it's school's, so I'm posting the drabbles here. If you follow my account on Tumblr (ask-deathofrevenant), you probably knew about these drabbles already. I'm not posting these for them to get read or attention, really. Just for my own fun.
Series: Apex Legends [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1763083
Comments: 2
Kudos: 22





	tear it apart

wallflower's nightmare

Neon colors as dim lights, mixes of green, red, yellow and purple, flashed around the room. The club had filled with people of all kinds and at least one thing they all seemed to have in common was the fun they had on the dancefloor. They threw their arms around, people approached each other in interest and pressed their chests to others backs – the club had filled with obnoxious music of different remixes and anything that would get even the most depressed person going. 

Sometimes (REDACTED) wondered if he was an outcast for not enjoying things like everyone else did. 

He did not enjoy parties, and he definitely didn’t enjoy the party his dear friend Dani had dragged him to. He had problems with finding the joy in dancing in the middle of people violently throwing themselves dancing to the beat of the music. Smell of sweat and breaths stained of alcohol disgusted him. It was hypocritical of him to say that – he had a glass of beer in his hand at the moment you were reading that. He’d taken a sip of it, or maybe even two – then how about three just to easen the feeling of forgetting about everything he wanted to drown in the past? He wasn’t an alcoholic. Sometimes he wished he would be. 

And as dear as Dani was to (REDACTED), he couldn’t understand her sometimes. While he was at the back of the club standing by himself and sticking out of the crowd like a clown at a funeral, Dani had blended into the crowd. Her thick, dark arms struck attention with her nails painted bright green on top of the golden pearls covering her wrists. People’s attention were drawn to her all eventually, not everyone’s eternally but (REDACTED) did see how at least adoring or jealous glances were shot her way before people returned back to show off with their own moves. 

As proud as he was to be Dani’s dear friend, he didn’t understand how she enjoyed the attention. 

Dani strolled soon to (REDACTED’S) lonely figure. Her painted lips curved into a wider smile. 

“Damn, son. Ya really (- - ) part(- -) don’t ya?” 

“(--)  guess .” 

“Come on. Come dance.” 

But (REDACTED) hated it. He didn’t hate dancing. He hated to dance in front of people – to show that vulnerable side of his, to let everyone know that he absolutely fucking sucked at dancing. It wasn’t hard to wave your arms or your hips around. It was hard to find the rhythm and to make it look pleasing to anyone else. When he told this to Dani, she snorted. 

“C’mon, yuh. It ain’t like it’s gon’ ki(- - -) or anythin’(--- ).” 

“(- ---)se?”

“I (- ---).” 

She dragged (REDACTED) with her onto the dancefloor. His first instict was to hug his arms to appear smaller in the crowd. _Don’t_ _touch_ _me._ He watched Dani throw her head to the sides as her hands brushed through her thick hair and her hips wiggled to the rhythm of the song. His cheeks burned. People’s hands shifted on each other’s hips, some passed his too even though he didn’t move like the others did, and they loved to invade others privacies – but that was the purpose of a club, wasn’t it? That’s how (REDACTED) had understood it. People had no sense of a private space. Their hands explored each other, they got closer, and even though (REDACTED) was the only one in the club not getting handfuls of attention from the people and he was happy that way–

Corners of his eyes leaked with warmth and darkness. 

If everyone else around him was having fun, why did he still want to die? 

Dani continued to dance. (REDACTED) stared at her blankly. The dusky liquid painted red lines on his cheeks and they continued to fall until they met his jawline. He hated to see how the people around him, how every human he saw from the corners of his eyes right now, had smiles painted on their faces and yet he was the only one in the club not smiling. How they could feel happy and forget all about what he’d done. How no one even knew what he had done. And yet he was the only one to know it all. 

A stinging ache grew inside his chest and he pressed his hands to his stomach. 

“I (-- - )o go(--).” 

“Aw, (REDACTED), don’t’cha a( ---) sil(--- -)w. Yuh worrying ‘bout nothing.” 

A stinging pain of a sharp blade, or a claw, mirrored itself on the skin of his stomach. His throat heaved like a rock stuck inside to block him from breathing. His head hung low and the red lines falling on his cheeks filled his sight. No one noticed – everyone around him continued to dance like there would be no end to their day. Even Dani raised her head up when the song pulled her back into the rhythm. It hurt. 

Why did it feel so beautiful to hurt like that?

The day Revenant had decided to ask Wattson to help him had been a day of shame to him. She’d been a brave woman and promised to help Revenant with his request. 

“I want to dream again.” 

“Excuse me?” 

“When I broke this shit programming, it took away my dreams. I wanna dream again.” 

That’s how the conversation had went with them – plain and simple. After Wattson had nodded a few times and promised in a determined voice she’d be of help, Revenant had fell silent. Now he was sitting with his posture bent like shit on a table while Wattson had been working for an hour. He watched the woman do her work. Not her work, but a personal favor she didn’t even owe to him. She’d tried to tie her short bobcut up but it had eventually fallen down and now at least half of her hairs were still stuck to her neck. The light red scar covering her cheek flashed with light, as well as her eyes, from the project in front of her. Then she beamed with a smile. 

“Got it!” she claimed. She’d attached tubes to Revenant’s back before and they felt uncomfortable to him. But now that she pressed the blue button on her project and the energy started to glide its way into Revenant’s systems through the tubes, he knew he’d underestimated the word ‘uncomfortable’ before. He gripped the table under him with sharpened claws and hissed silently. 

“Ah- My apologies. I should have warned you. It might feel unpleasant.” Her blue eyes screamed countless apologies and worries to him.

“Yeah, no shit,” he simply stated. He looked away when Wattson’s brows frowned in sorrow. The final glimpses of the energy finally transferred inside him and he held in the deep sigh of relief from emerging. 

“Is it done.” 

“Y-Yes. I do think you should come see me again and tell me if it works, though,” Wattson said. Though her eyes were still scared and her smile had grown smaller, the tone of her voice told Revenant she was confident in seeing him again. 

“Right,” Revenant then said. He turned his gaze to the wall and didn’t move from the table just yet. Wattson’s expression turned slightly surprised, maybe even waiting, and she put her small hands on her hips. Silence filled the room. 

Then Wattson finally asked after two minutes of silence: “Is something wrong?” 

Revenant looked at her now. 

“I mean... Do you want to-? Talk?” Wattson continued. 

“No,” Revenant stated. A silent grunt emerged from him. “I was thinking if your energy can shut off a machine forever without it dying.” 

Wattson looked genuinely confused. 

“Not die-” Revenant clarified and gestured his hands into a ball in front of him, and Wattson took a look- “But fall into an eternal sleep. Something close to that.” 

“No, I don’t think so...” Wattson said. She pressed her fingertips on her chin and pursed her lips in thought. “I think my energy would simply shut the machine off. Of course, if there is an option to shut it like a computer and make it wait until you press it on again... Then you could, in a sense, put it into an eternal sleep by never opening it again. But what kind of a machine are you talking about?” 

“Nevermind.” Revenant got up on his thin, metallic legs and brushed close to Wattson as he started to leave the room. 

“Wait! Maybe I can help-” Wattson tried to call after him, but Revenant shut the door to block her voice. 

Finally Revenant could calm his thoughts from the storm when he’d arrived to his house. His home, as he’d called it before. Not anymore. 

Why not? 

Why did it not feel like a home? 

When you’d scratched your walls until they’d bled in your eyes, you didn’t want to call it your home. Fixed the walls and painted them again to make it look prettier. Then crashed down again and fell to the bottom of the pit. Painted it again. You get the loop. Not even the mirror in the bathroom felt his anymore. It was just a way to remember the day he’d shaved the sharpened, short hairs off his chin.

The mirror was someone else’s, he wanted to believe. It was just a nightmare waiting for you to snap out of it – for someone to pinch your skin so you could wake up again in the skinsuit they’d made you wear for whatever reasons. Protection, to appear beautiful. 

But the nightmare he wanted to wake up from was looking back at him in the mirror. He’d realized it a long time ago – it wasn’t just a nightmare anymore. It was a reflection. 

Revenant took the cut piece of a shattered window in his hand. The one he’d had struck through his neckwires when he’d destroyed the elevator with a choking man’s body. He’d spared that one part and taken it with him that day. Just so he could look at it again... To remember. That was one part of his ungrateful life he didn’t want to forget – finally seeing him for himself and what he was in everyone else’s eyes, and what he had feared the most of becoming.

Everyone was a monster to someone. Then he’d decided, from that moment he’d seen himself with that exact piece of an elevator inside his neck–

If they wanted a monster, he’d be theirs.

deserved

As unfortunate as it had been for Revenant to end up in a squad together with Loba and Mirage, that had happened. It had annoyed him to the ends of the Earth to see Mirage desperately trying to get Loba’s attention – it felt fake enough. Fake for the television. The only thing that Revenant found real in his act was his stutter that he always did when trying to pronounce difficult words or when he was nervous. Maybe Revenant’s presence had made him nervous... Or maybe the cameras zooming right into his face from the distance when he was reviving Loba’s limp figure on the ground. But in the end, Revenant didn’t care. None of it was his business and he didn’t care enough for it to be.

Then another fight had happened and Mirage’s fate for the remaining fight had been sealed when Bloodhound had got the chance to blast the life out of him with their shotgun. At least he wasn’t that kind of an annoying teammate who would blame Revenant or Loba for it after the match, or after they’d get him to the respawn beacon either if that would happen, and for that Revenant was actually grateful. Loba, on the other hand, liked to spare spiteful looks at Revenant every time he wouldn’t be there to try and bodyguard either of his teammates like he’d be their shield. 

“I’m not your babysitter,” Revenant had mentioned.

“As supposed. A man who can’t shield a lady doesn’t deserve her gratefulness after.” Revenant didn’t need her to thank him. He needed nobody to do so.

After the almost lost fight they’d survived, Mirage’s banner rest in Loba’s tight grip. Her bloodied shoes approached Revenant’s limp body sitting on the ground that was lazily reaching for any kind of support for his arms to keep him up. An exhausted grunt left him. When Loba walked in front of him with her posture held high and her chin tilted upwards, Revenant didn’t spare a look at her to make her feel proud of herself.

“Do us all a favor and get up already.” Loba threw a syringe or two at Revenant. He knew there was more – but he didn’t need more. Not from her. He gripped the syringes with his sharpening claws and struggled his figure up from the ground.

“Do yourself a favor and take these back,” Revenant said. He huffed in amusement as he stood up and thrusted the syringes back into Loba’s hands. His legs underneath almost gave up on him when he stepped away from her. 

“ Fine .  Die then.” 

“Isn’t that your mission? To kill me?” Revenant’s voice was playful – teasing. 

How beautiful it was to see Loba’s brows frown and her expression darken even more. How amusing he found it when Loba lifted up her gun to scold Revenant with its muzzle pointing straight at him. If he could’ve done so, he would’ve smirked to let her know how he enjoyed the show she’d put on. But he was sure Loba knew that already. 

“I think I’ve found your true weakness, in fact,” Loba mentioned. Her gun slipped back onto her belt easily. 

“And  what’s that, then?”

“Death.” Confidence and dominance brightened Loba’s gaze from the darkness she’d just gained in them. Revenant almost barked out a laugh, but Loba continued. “Don’t try me, demônio.” She tried to appear taller by straightening her back on her heels, but she could never match Revenant’s height. Not even with heels twice hers now. She shook her head intensely; her dyed braids almost flew over her shoulders afterwards and a deep sigh left her faintly painted lips. 

“You want to die. _That’s_ what you desire,” Loba stated. Revenant listened in silence. He tilted his empty hip to the left and crossed his arms. 

“Is that all?” he asked. 

“No,” Loba said. She imitated Revenant’s awaiting posture and crossed her arms with her hip tilted, as well as her chin – a gesture that Revenant had not made. “I don’t want to give you what you want. I want you to suffer. I want to torture you like you tortured me for all these years. My parents... They did not deserve to die in such a monster’s hands like you are.” 

“So what’s this, Andrade? Are you waiting for someone else to shoot me here and now?” 

“No. You can die here all you want and I’ll enjoy it. But outside the ring, I won’t grant you that pleasure.” 

Revenant let his hands fall to his sides. He took a leap at Loba and easily pressed her against the solid rock behind her back. She gasped in surprise and tried to push him off, but his hand pressed against her throat as soon as her back hit the harsh material. Loba reached to his wrist and tried to grip it as hard as she could. She grit her teeth and growled at him. 

“You wanted to kill me before. Now you decided you’re better off with me being alive. Isn’t that interesting?” Revenant’s voice echoed. He leaned his metallic face closer to Loba’s and watched in interest her eyes darken and her expression gain pain to it. “What would your parents say again?” 

“They’d be proud. They’d want me to make you suffer.” Loba gasped for breath and still let out an audible groan. “I won’t forgive you, and they will never forgive you, you demon.” 

“If you would’ve even got close to my death-” Revenant let go of her and looked down upon her as she fell to the ground to take deep gasps for breath\- “You’d be dead already.” Revenant turned his back on Loba’s figure, who was now on her knees on the ground, and he could hear her annoyed grunt. 

Revenant spoke again. “Let’s get that skinsuit back. I don’t need him, but he can prove useful.” 

churchyard

The highest building of the city (REDACTED) had ever climbed in his life would have to be to the roof of _Damien_ ’s office. Exhausted men and women crowded out of the building in wide rows – their heads hung down and their movements were slow like an undead would be walking in their shoes. Their eyelids flared but never shut so their hollow gazes stuck onto the ground underneath. 

(REDACTED) lay his gaze upon the people over 1600 feet under the tips of his shoes. Cold breeze of the wind brushed against the skin of his bare hands and almost stuck the thick fabric of his worn coat to his arms. The only source of warmth to his frozen skin were faint tears emerging from the corners of his eyes and slowly falling their way on his cheekbones. His breathing quickened.

He slid his shoe slightly forward to test the waters of the edge. 

(REDACTED) leaned his whole body forward. 

Wind striked throughout his body as the fall felt like the last breath of the Earth to his soul. He used the last powers of his hands to free his hair from the bun and let his hair cover his sight of the sky upon his gaze. What a grace it was to see the dark clouds hovering over the grey sky; to feel a drop of rain on his skin. 

Or maybe the rain was his tears.

His back hit the ground in a violent manner. His bones wriggled broken and his thick skull finally cracked open. 

But nothing happened. 

(REDACTED’S) eyes stayed open. His blue eyes locked onto the dusky sky above his figure. The building was still there and so was his spirit. His fingers cracked into lanky movement. He sat up on the harsh ground – his hair fell over his eyes once again to cover his sight, but this time he moved the strays away. 

The people around him had fallen to the ground. Their limp bodies lay in piles arms tangled together and necks cracked to reach their upper backs. A woman lay beside (REDACTED) – a worker from the building, and her eyes hung open with no sparks of life remaining in them no more, and (REDACTED) could almost see it in her eyes how the life had drained out of them the moment he’d hit the ground. Her chest had stopped from moving the immediate moment she’d taken her last breath.

He breathed the way she would’ve deserved to. 

A warm presence lay across Revenant’s harsh figure. His systems woke to the tiny claws baking the thin torso of his. Revenant got up on his elbows, and how lucky he was to be welcomed by a loving gaze of his cat. 

“Grace.” Her paws now pressed on top of his empty chest plate and her elegant figure approached Revenant’s face. She pushed his cheek lightly with her own. 

“What a grace to see you now.” There was no one to laugh at his joke, and not even he himself laughed. Grace simply let out a purr as if she’d understood it. He avoided touching Grace with his sharp claws as he let the palm of his hand press on her fur. “Hm. You need a brush soon.” The long furs hovering over her stomach had tangled a little together from when she’d rolled around the grass yesterday. 

Revenant moved Grace away from his chest and sat up. 

“I’m going to get up now. Sorry, Grace.” Grace followed him as he stood up from the bed and she hopped on the floor beside his metallic legs. Her tail tangled around his shin. 

“You’re hungry.” She kept pushing her slightly chunky figure against his leg. “Yes, got the message. You can stop now.” Revenant crouched to grab Grace into his hands and let her rest on his arm bent under his chest. The buildings outside caught Revenant’s eye when he passed the windows. He put his hand on the furs of Grace’s stomach and she let out a satisfied purr. 

“You’re here. That’s important.” 

salvage

Another mission of his – that really wasn’t a professional mission anymore, just a personal one – that had gone to shit. His gaze screamed anger and vengeance, but his mind fell silent in shame. The target had gone down, and so had everyone around her. But so had Revenant’s arm. 

He walked in front of a large window that exposed the whole city underneath. Skinsuits walked around busy to work and relaxed on the fountain with their groups of friends. Their lives streamed on and their end would be soon to come to whichever would cause their tragedies. 

Revenant looked at himself. An uncomfortable feeling arose inside his systems at the sight of his ripped arm. It disgusted him to feel that way. He had never before let a damaged part of himself bother him. But now that his arm had been ripped off by a guard that now lay on the ground with a bullet striked straight between his eyes, a wonder heavied upon Revenant’s mind. How the arm would’ve hurt if he’d had the same suit too. How his muscles would’ve screamed in agony at the violent hands grasping his parts off. 

Revenant brought his remaining hand to the thick layer covering his torso. He dug his claws deep inside it and let it rip apart as he pulled his fingers with force. He watched the progress happen in the window and the damaged torso now started to rip apart quietly – wires groveled from the holes dug and he pulled on them more and more; more until they damaged too, until they started to rip cut and the feeling inside his chest started to grow heavier. 

What had he expected? To see guts pouring out? To have blood streaming down his hand and to feel the warmth of the deep red liquid on his nonexistent skin? 

How pathetic.

Revenant grasped the wires out of his torso. His figure fell harshly onto his knees and a painful grunt left his systems. He let his hand fall onto the ground and the colorful wires still stayed hanging from his body. They refused to untangle from him. His gaze shook with enthusiasm. He planted his hand on his chestplate and a quick laugh emerged from him. 

“Pain. I’d forgotten.” 

How the humans left dead on the ground behind him had felt the intense pain before they’d met their tragic ends from the end of Revenant’s blade... And even though Revenant couldn’t die–

“Again.” 

He pulled at the strings hovering under his torso. His back arched backwards and his head hung low as satisfaction from the sudden ache of pain flew throughout his mind. He fell on his pelvis and moved his hand to grasp the wires of his broken metal and wires of his shoulder. He tugged at them. 

Nothing happened. 

A frustrated grunt left him. He pulled the wires until they dangled low. Dug his claws into the wires again. Dug again. He ripped the material off the wires until the electronic insides of the wires struck his claws. A laughter emerged from his voicebox hidden inside his chest – and what an idea it was to get his hands onto that too. Rip it apart until there was no more voice. No more noise.

And then, finally then– when he’d be done with that, and when he’d finally get his hands on the shit of a heart they’d pretended to make for him– he believed, Death would finally take him in.

And how beautiful it all felt to him.

Once again, nothing happened.

Revenant threw the broken shit of an arm into his sink. He let out a frustrated cry and slammed his fist pouring with wires onto the edge of the sink. He had no idea how to fucking fix it all. How to put his body back together. And he had no idea of how to die either – he was stuck. 

Grace pushed her head against his leg. Revenant glanced down at his cat. 

“Where’s Cherry?” he asked. 

Cherry was a kitten Revenant had got as a “birthday gift” – what a foolish concept – from Pathfinder. He’d let Pathfinder come up with a name for the cat and the naïve robot had chosen Cherry for the bright pink nose the kitten happened to own. 

_“It_ _reminds_ _me of_ _you_ _,”_ Revenant had told Pathfinder. He still hated the way he hadn’t forgotten the quick smiley face with hearts all around it Pathfinder had shown as a reaction. 

Pathfinder had then told Revenant in return how Grace reminded him of Revenant. Maybe it happened to be the sweetest thing Revenant had heard in decades or could remember having heard. Or maybe it was just the only positive thing he’d cared enough about to remember.

Revenant scratched the side of his skull. He grunted silently and crouched down to let Grace crawl onto his arm that had been spared by him to let it stay in one piece. (Excluding the wires dripping out, of course.) He got up again and tilted his chin away from Grace, but the cat pushed her face closer to him.

“Let’s get me cleaned up, won’t we?” he asked. Grace raised her paw on Revenant’s lips and if he could’ve moved them, he would’ve kissed the paw. Instead he just leaned against the paw gently. A quiet meow left the chunky cat. How was it possible for a cat to make someone feel as guilty as she happened to make Revenant feel right now? Not for the kill – not for the humans he’d slaughtered just a moment ago. He felt sorry for having hurt himself. 

“Yeah, yeah. Sorry. I did a bad thing,” Revenant said. He glanced up to the mirror in front of him. “But it may happen again.” 

Grace’s ears perked up. Her paw stayed on Revenant’s lips and he glanced down at the cat again. 

“I can’t promise it won’t.” 

russian roulette

Grace and Cherry had both curledup on the couch, and Grace’s bigger form had curled protectively around the small kitten. A shadowy figure passed them. The figure turned back; he leaned down to pull a light cover on the catswarm bodies, and then he walked away again. 

Revenant had a gun in his hand. 

It had been picked up from his bedroom, that he really didn’t consider as a bedroom anymore, and he’d brought it to kitchen with him. He sat on a chair and leaned his tiredmetallic form against the back of it. 

As a human he’d had this exact position twice. 

The first time he’d been “lucky” enough to avoid his true intentions. The secondtime – he couldn’t remember. Sometimes he wondered if that was the real case of his death. If that had been just a memory wiped out by the men in charge of his simulacrum systems and if it had been replaced by a lie of getting assassinated while dreaming. 

Before those times Revenant had never understood why people would risk their lives to play a simple game. But now – especially now – he knew the truth to it. 

There was only one bullet in the gun. Revenant didn’t hesitate to put the gun up to his head and pull the trigger. No bullet. 

Second time. No bullet. 

Third time. No bullet. 

Fourth time. 

A bullet hit the harsh metal of his head. It shot back fromhis side and dropped onto the floor after a loud, singular sound of a _clank._

Of course. What had he expected? For it to hit right through as if he’d still be a human with flesh and brains? 

He filled two slots of the magazine instead of one this time. After the second shot a bullet striked out and bonked to the flooronce again. The fifth shot did the same. The result would always be the same, but Revenant kept filling the slots one by one after a round until all six slots were filled. 

The side of his head steamed slightly. Before firing the gun again he glanced up to the window – and there he was, sitting at a table with rounds of non-used bullets waiting for the gun to swallow them in. His head had scratches and pits to it from the bullets. No holes. No blood. 

A loud sound of a meowfinally got through his thick skull. It happened again and again, and for how long had it been happening before this? 

Revenant turned on thechair to see Grace standing beside him with frightened eyes and her furs shot up. She kept making noise. Revenant dropped the gun onto the table and leaned to take Grace into his hands. Cherry’s small footsteps followed, and soon he picked the kitten up too. As soon as Revenant stroked the soft furs on the cats’ foreheads, Cherry was the first one to start purring and Grace followed.

“You must be scared,” he quietly said. “Loud noises. Too loud for your fragile ears.”

They were right. It was no use to do that anymore – or it had been no use to ever do it in the first place. Even if he’d still be alive. 

Alive in the way he’d wished to. 


End file.
